Madre Taberna Moderna: A Catalan Surprise Around the Corner from Sagrada Familia

This Modern Barcelona Taberna Serves Honest, Beautiful Food with a Smile—and You'll Wish You Had Room for More

There are few things more dangerous than finding yourself ravenously hungry and within whiffing distance of the Sagrada Familia. One minute you're dodging selfie sticks and nodding politely at Gaudí's architectural acid trip, the next you're about to resign yourself to a soggy patatas bravas from a laminated tourist menu with translations in fourteen languages and a photo of a microwave.

But then, a delightful surprise—Madre.

Tucked just around the corner like a quiet secret shared between locals and the lucky, Madre Taberna Moderna is the kind of place you stumble upon and immediately start mentally bookmarking for future visits, family holidays, anniversaries, maybe your will. My friend Rand and I landed there with the spontaneity of two under-caffeinated flâneurs. We were granted a last-minute table as if Barcelona herself had whispered a blessing in Catalan.

Inside, it's a haven of warm wood and unpretentious charm. The kind of place that doesn't boast about itself, but exudes the quiet confidence of a kitchen that knows its craft. The staff? Cheerful, welcoming, and equipped with that miraculous hospitality gene that makes you feel like you've been coming here for years, even as you fumble through your first sip of vermut.

The food, dear reader, was not revolutionary, which is precisely why it was brilliant.

No foam, no soil, no edible air. Just honest, deceptively simple dishes that had been made with care, knowledge, and the sort of restraint that only the outstanding chefs have. We started with what looked like a modest plate of grilled vegetables—humble aubergine, roasted pepper, perhaps a tomato that had known better days—but they arrived glistening with olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt, and utterly singing with flavour. They tasted like someone's grandmother had taught the kitchen how to coax sweetness from bitterness and memory from char.

There was a slow-cooked meat dish, which I suspect was pork shoulder or beef cheek, but let's not ruin it with labels. What mattered is this: it collapsed into tenderness at the mere threat of a fork, and the sauce it came with was the kind you finish with bread long after the meat's been devoured.

My only regret? That I'm too polite, too bourgeois, too cursed with manners to unbuckle my belt and start again.

I got full. Too soon. And as I watched the dishes pass us by, destined for more capacious diners—golden croquettes, blushing slices of tuna, pillowy desserts—I felt like the fool at the party who leaves just as the band starts playing their best song.

Next time, I'll arrive with an empty stomach. I'll over-order with abandon. I'll let Madre do what she does best: feed you until you're deliriously happy, then feed you some more. The anticipation is already making my mouth water.

And if you're ever in the mood for a little divine intervention in Barcelona—skip the cathedral and follow your nose. Madre awaits.

📍 Madre Taberna Moderna
📌 Carrer de Sardenya, 364, 08025 Barcelona, Spain
📞 +34 938 53 24 12

Just a 3-minute stroll from the Sagrada Familia.